


Glass Slippers

by crumblingwalls



Category: Fairy Tales and Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:14:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crumblingwalls/pseuds/crumblingwalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't what it looked like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass Slippers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waldorph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waldorph/gifts).



It wasn't what it looked like. I know what they say—wicked, scheming, evil. _Evil_. I did it to save her.

When her father died, I saw my chance, and I took it. My daughters weren't at risk, children of only a low-ranking Baroness, not a single mage in our lineage, and no beauties to look at. If they had any magic at all, it was so minor, so common, that no one would have noticed, least of all the crown. Ella, though… Ella was beautiful, highborn, and naïve. She would be everything they could want in a princess, and then a queen.

I knew what the Palace wanted, and I had seen only too clearly what they did to those unwilling to give them it to them.

A riding accident, they had said, almost apologetically, when they came to tell me of his death. There was no body—fallen, they said, into a gully and swept away by the river; unretrievable. He was an expert horseman, riding his best horse. It was no accident. He had proven to be too inconvenient, and they had dealt with him the only way they knew how. Not even the magic that they had tried so hard to control could save him then.

I knew that unless I did something, she had one of two paths. On the first, she would end the way her father had feared he would—an unwilling slave to the kingdom, the magic leached out of him by force, until he was devoid of his magic, his lifeblood. He had died to avoid just that. The second path came with more attractive trappings, but the same end—bound to the court by marriage, her magic offered freely until she had no more to give, and they disposed of her.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I hid her away in plain sight, and hoped to eventually send her away, maybe to her mother's land, where powerful magics were more common and less sought after, and a girl — a woman — with extraordinary talent would be appreciated, but not, one hopes, exploited. Ella became our scullery maid, and spent her days cleaning the fireplaces and doing dishes, not wearing the gowns and jewels that I knew she longed for. But it was safer like that. For her.

As she grew, she became harder to hide. It wasn't just the Crown looking for her anymore. They set the fae upon her as well, hoping that the magic in her blood would call to them. Every time I left the house, I would wonder if this was the time that I would come home and find her gone.

And then the ball. My girls were so excited, chattering and scheming of how they could connect with the Prince. Telling each other that this was their chance. And Ella grew quieter and quieter. In the month before the ball, she asked me repeatedly if she could go, and every time I denied her, she grew more agitated. My daughters teased her, intimidated by her beauty and not understanding what was at stake.

The day of the ball she came to me, and showed me the dress she made. I lied to her then, betraying her as I never had before. I told her she looked ridiculous, stupid, cheap. I told her that no prince would ever dance with a scullery maid, and I tore her beads from her neck and scattered them on the ground, and I left her there, alone. Crying.

I did what I thought was right, but that was the night they caught her. They been watching us for weeks, waiting for the moment to be right. When I left that night, they struck. One of them put on the glamour, hiding her sharp teeth and wild hair, softening the inhuman angles of her face, and lowering the haunting screech of her voice to something closer to human. It cooed at Ella, simpering at her, telling her it could change her life, that it could do anything for her. Telling her that all she had to do was make the wish.

They expected her to wish to be queen, or to wish for power, or simply to be taken away. Instead, Ella wished only to go to the ball, nearly thwarting their plans then and there. They rallied quickly, though, and instead offered her all the glamour they could — a pumpkin for coach, mice for horses, and rags for a dress. Then they swept her off to the ball.

When I saw her there, something in me broke. I had failed. She was beautiful, luminous, and even from across the room, her magic could not be denied. I’d known she had the gift, but I’d never seen it in full force. At home, she would talk to the mice, or maybe a broom would sweep up by itself, but never before had she looked like this—pale and glowing, like the moon, pushing the tides from herself and drawing them inexorably back, controlling them as easily as breathing.

Everyone else in the hall saw it, too. The Prince broke off his conversation and approached her, and the Queen nodded approvingly. Her eyes scanned the room, finally coming to rest on me, and she smiled quietly, almost, one might think, smugly. I knew that it was over for me. I hoped that they would make it quick.

For the rest of the evening, neither the Prince nor the Queen had eyes for anyone but Ella. I watched nervously as they danced, their faces close, whispering to each other, obvious to anything around them. He didn’t leave her side. She fled at midnight, the glamour wearing off as she ran, but never again could she be hidden—once the fae had touched you, their mark would remain there forever. It was only a matter of time before they would come for her, and for me.

We didn't have long to wait. The next day it was announced that the Prince had chosen a bride, a woman from the ball, and he would be coming to collect her before nightfall. Ella's eyes glowed. There was no question in her mind—or in mine—that she would be his bride.

I tried to warn her. "It's magic," I said. "It's the power in your blood that calls them, and they’ll stop at nothing to…" I couldn't finish, and there was no point, anyhow—I could tell that she didn’t believe me.

True to their word, a carriage from the palace arrived just as the sun was starting to set. The Prince disembarked, followed by the Queen, and Ella ran to them. The Queen smiled coldly. They presented Ella with new clothing: a gown, a headpiece, glass slippers.

"Clothing befitting the Princess," said the Queen. "Imbued with magic… For your protection, of course." She turned to me. "Help her dress," she snapped.

I'm ashamed to say I did as I was ordered. Ella and I went back to the house, and she obediently stripped and stood before me in her chemise. 

I should have asked her if she was sure. I should have warned her, at least, that the enchanted garments would hurt. I didn’t neither, and instead dropped the dress over her head, guiding her arms into the sleeves. She gasped as the bodice tightened, tendrils of magic weaving themselves through the tender skin of her chest, and I paused, but when she said nothing, I resumed.

The headpiece came next. It was an innocuous looking golden circlet, a moonstone dangling as a centerpiece. I put it on her, carefully, and the stone sank into the pale skin of her forehead, its chain dissolving. This time, she didn’t flinch.

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

"The shoes," she said in a voice not her own. "Finish this."

The glass slippers were burningly cold in my hands, and I cringed to think of them encasing her feet, but she stood there, impatient, and I knelt before her and carefully slipped them on. As I did, they seemed to fuse to her feet, searing and compressing her flesh. She wobbled slightly, and I stayed beside her a moment, allowing her to use my shoulder to steady herself.

Finally I stood, and she gazed at me with unseeing eyes. 

"Come," called the Queen, but Ella didn’t move. 

I took her hand and slowly guided her through the room and out the front door. The Prince looked upon her with the hunger a man has for a woman; the Queen looked at her with a different kind of hunger. The sort of hunger that a wild thing has for its prey.

I thought, briefly, of begging. Of offering myself in exchange. I knew, though, that it was already too late.

The Queen’s eye glinted. "Come," she said again, directing Ella to the carriage. I was frozen in place, no more able to move than I was to fly.

Ella climbed slowly into the carriage, followed by the Prince. The Queen waited until they were inside, then addressed me directly. "Someone will come for you," she said mildly. "You should make arrangements for your daughters. It will be difficult for them, otherwise." 

She nodded to the horseman, and stepped into the carriage. They disappeared into the woods, and I went into the house to wait.


End file.
